Prize Fight
by nerdlife4eva
Summary: Yuuri and Victor are MMA fighters set to fight each other in the "fight of the century." They didn't know that they would also be fighting for their own lives.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

 _Huffs and grunts filled the darkened musty space, echoing off of the walls as the bodies were thrown down, limp from the harsh beatings they were receiving. The single overhead light was swinging in a circle, creating a dancing pattern of light which reflected off the sweat-slicked skin of the two men positioned underneath it. The air was unbearably warm and thick with the smell of blood and sweat, rancid with the perspiration of body-crushing exertion produced in their fight of a seemingly endless battle._

 _Backing up, Yuuri felt the damp skin of his back collide with Victor's naked back, slipping easily against each other as they braced themselves for impact. Throwing a chaste glance over his shoulder, Yuuri found Victor mirroring his smirk. "Ready to kick some ass?" Cracking his neck, Yuuri eyed his approaching targets between his raised fists._

 _"Kick theirs, then kiss yours," Victor answered, raising his eyebrow at the men stalking in a circle around them. They looked like they were begging for death and with his smirk still in place, Victor lifted a single hand beckoning them closer to their imminent demise._

* * *

 **3 hours earlier**

Competition was a thrill. A thrill built from pillars of anxiety, anticipation, excitement, and eagerness. Yuuri had learned long ago that he could ride the high of those feelings, swirling them together to fuel a storm at the pit of his stomach, preparing to unleash their deadly energy at the command of the first bell.

He had faced losses, never as gracefully as he had faced wins, but his fan base and the general public didn't know that. Yuuri was known for his stoic nature and his quiet strength which exploded in the middle of the ring to bleed terror into the hearts and minds of his opponents. Outside of the rink, he looked like nothing more than an unassuming nerd, tousled hair and rimmed glasses paired with his usual baggy clothing. Inside of the rink, however, Yuuri was hardened muscle, laser focus, and so devastatingly breathtaking he often left his opponents windless with his looks alone.

Hopping from foot to foot, Yuuri shook out the tension in his arms, letting the thunderous roar of the crowd fuel the heated beast beginning to growl inside of him. To his left, Celestino stood with perfect posture, ponytail resting over his shoulder as his eyes narrowed toward the tunnel opening. To Yuuri's right, Phichit was rattling off the list of first aid supplies, calming his own nerves by reviewing the hand-written checklist for a third time. Together they would enter the temporary construction functioning as an arena, but once they reached the octagon, Yuuri would enter alone.

Prepared for the fight of his life, Yuuri took three quick jabs into the air, drawing his fists back to his chest when the first notes of his theme song blared over the speakers. The already deafening crowd became a sonic boom of voices as the black curtains lifted and Yuuri began his descent toward the ring.

* * *

"Don't you find it a little… I don't know… _extra_ , that they decided to build an octagon in the middle of an old castle?" Georgi stood next to Victor, hand running over the old stone wall, shaking his head as he wiped the dirt off on his training pants. "I mean, I know this is the fight of the century and all," Georgi quipped, a teasing drip of sarcasm sneaking into his voice and making Victor smile, "but seriously, there are state-of-the-art facilities available for these things."

Rolling his neck, Victor considered Georgi's musings, letting his eyes wander over the dank stone-covered space. The castle was old, positioned on the side of a hill, flanked by a sea of ancient looking trees. Most of it was stone, although carved wood posts stood in various places providing support that Victor couldn't quite wrap his mind around.

The castle was certainly picked to add to the aesthetic of the fight and a convenient choice as the town below it was large enough to house the crowd that had gathered. Cameras and reporters from all over the world would line the top tier of the temporarily erected stadium seating and Victor paused in his stretching to make sure his hair was in place. Once the fight began all bets were off, but he could at least enter the vast room looking perfect. After all, that's what people had come to expect of him.

"Don't underestimate Katsuki," Yakov growled over Victor's shoulder, standing slightly behind Victor and Georgi and glaring forward at nothing in particular. "And don't get distracted. The last time you two fought, your libido almost cost you the match. This is a global stage, Vitya, I won't have your unexplainable lust for your opponent cost you your victory." Spitting on the floor, Yakov stepped forward, eyes narrowing toward the impending pull of the curtain.

"Not unexplainable," Victor muttered, looking sideways when Georgi nudged him with a knowing grin.

Yuuri Katsuki was a flawed fighter. His technique was passionate, anyone facing him could feel his love for the fight, but his confidence was abysmal. After their last fight, in which Victor won by a narrow margin, he had attempted to compliment Yuuri on his skills. He had been rebuffed, Yuuri muttering a comment about losing before disappearing into his locker room to be patched up.

The media and avid fans of their sport often compared the two of them. Yuuri was fire, explosive in his sequence of moves and burning his opponents with his relentless stamina. Victor was ice, cool-headed in the ring and calculating to a degree that some called evil. They were a perfect contrast, and no one loved that fact more than Victor himself.

Hearing the rise of his song rumble through the castle-turned-arena, Victor gave one final flip of his hair and led his team out into the crowd.

* * *

The twisted wire of the octagon fence dug into Yuuri's skin as he leaned back to listen to Celestino's last minute instructions. He could only partially concentrate on his coach's adamant hissing, his eyes watching closely as Victor continued to roll his neck and shoulders to loosen up. Victor was taller and leaner, but Yuuri had studied him extensively. This time, he wouldn't lose.

Heat pooled in Victor's stomach. He could feel Yuuri's eyes on him, knowing that even with blurry vision, Yuuri was analyzing him and already preparing for their fight. Behind his head, Yakov was screaming the last of his advice, spitting again with a final remark about Victor doing what he wanted to anyway. This was true; it always was. Setting his face in his most deceivingly sweet smile, Victor took a step toward the center of the ring, ready to go toe-to-toe with the most beautiful man in the room.

They stood a mere four feet apart. This close Yuuri could see that Victor had chosen his red and white shorts for their fight, his gloves and tape coordinating in their patterns and colors. Yuuri had chosen his signature blue with his supports monochrome in pitch black. Phichit had raved about the intimidating nature of Yuuri's color scheme, and while such things never mattered to Yuuri, he wanted to look his best when he knocked his idol out in the first round. He wanted Victor to remember this fight as the day that Yuuri finally took him down.

Rules were being reiterated, mostly for the benefit of the crowd, but Victor couldn't hear anything over his own heartbeat. Yuuri's skin was glistening, his abdominal muscles flexing with every breath as he stared Victor down. Flames flickered inside of Yuuri's brown irises and Victor could feel them licking at his skin while Yuuri surveyed him. Where Yuuri stood ready to snap, Victor remained calm, his nerves carefully locked away inside of him as everyone expected them to be. Only his team knew that this would be his last fight and Victor intended on making it one that the world would remember.

The ref's voice finally faded away and the man stepped back to allow Victor and Yuuri to knock their gloves together before taking their opening stances. With the crowd collectively holding their breath, the two fighters lowered into position, eyes connecting as they waited for the ding to release them upon each other.

 ** _BOOM!_**

Yuuri's shoulder collided with the spring floor as he was blown backwards. His head was ringing from the sound, eyes barely able to register the crumbling area which had been blasted. People screamed, fleeing from their seats and pouring from the exits, filling the entire space with chaos and terror. Bleary-eyed, Yuuri squinted across the octagon, seeing Celestino forcing Phichit backwards into the crowd as his best friend screamed Yuuri's name. Fear gripped at Yuuri's chest, making him curl toward the floor as he began to hyperventilate.

Crawling with his elbows, Victor dragged himself toward Yuuri, ignoring Georgi's screeching from the side of the octagon. All around them people were scurrying from the building, shoving against each other in their haste to escape. The stench of explosive chemicals burned against Victor's nostrils as he pulled himself toward Yuuri, staying low to the ground as rocks and debris continued to fall around them.

Pressing a hand to his head, Yuuri screwed his eyes shut trying to control the panic. Celestino was right to get Phichit out as quickly as possible; Yuuri was quicker and more agile, with a better sense of the ins and outs of this building than either of the members of his team. Still, the feeling of abandonment was wringing his heart like a wet sponge and Yuuri growled in a merger attempt to fight off the need to cry.

"Yuuri!" Victor yelled, wrapping his fingers over Yuuri's shoulder and shaking him. "We have to get out of here!" There was a hint of dread in Victor's statement, the slick feeling of his palm slipping from Yuuri's shoulder emphasizing his own seizing alarm. He continued to shake Yuuri until his opponent looked up at him, Victor's heart immediately sinking at the open shock and horror he found on Yuuri's face. Reaching to touch Yuuri's cheek, Victor hoped to reassure him. A moment passed between them, silence in the middle of chaos and Victor falsely thought he had succeeded. Instead they found themselves nearly crashing their foreheads together, jumping as a single terrorized scream ripped through the crumbling room, louder than any of the other panicked noises currently circling around them.

Together their heads lifted, following the source of the scream and watching with slacked jaws as the head of their international federation was ripped from his grip on his wife, his family being dragged back by darkly clothed assailants. Scrambling to their feet, they slammed through the octagon opening, leaping over chairs and sprinting toward the oppressively large humans terrorizing the family who had organized the event.

Matching blows to the backs of their heads dropped Yuuri and Victor to the floor. No one noticed as the two star fighters were lifted over the shoulders of muscled goons, their athletic bodies limp in unconsciousness as they were carried away.

* * *

 ** _Drip._**

 ** _Drip._**

 ** _Drip._**

Victor felt the repetitive cool drops against his cheek, his consciousness rising sluggishly through the thick haze of the fire-red pain in his head. He was used to taking blows, but fists and feet were far different than whatever had knocked the lights out of his brain this time. Groaning, he attempted to open his eyes, shifting to discover that his body was anchored to someone else. Despite the dull throb at the back of his skull, Victor angled his head to identify the person behind him. Heart slamming hard into his stomach, Victor's eyes traveled over the sagging form of Yuuri, held upright only by his connection to Victor.

Another cold drop hit Victor's cheek and he flinched, resting his head back on Yuuri's shoulder to avoid the falling droplets of what he prayed was water. The skin of his wrists burned where they were tied with thin rope, the backs of his wrists pressed firmly against Yuuri's where they were bound together. It seemed impractical that they would be tied with their arms extended to their sides, Yuuri's left wrist anchored tightly to Victor's right and Victor's right bound to Yuuri's left, but Victor had never been kidnapped and tied up before so he supposed he wasn't an expert on the practice of doing so.

Pressing his fists into the dirt, Victor attempted to shift, flinching at the pain which flashed over his skin. Examining the rest of his body, he noted the angry red welts which were spreading across his chest and stomach where the ropes continued their binding wind around his body. His legs were tethered at the ankles and an experimental stretch of his neck revealed that a rope had also been wound there. Swallowing hard, he could feel the roughness of the rope against his throat as his Adam's apple bobbed.

A moan, long and deep, rolled through the room as Yuuri came to. "Son of a bitch!" Yuuri cursed, his head snapping up faster than Victor's had.

In another setting, Victor would have laughed at Yuuri's crass American version of cussing, but their situation hardly left room for humor at the moment. Giving an experimental hum, Victor analyzed the tightness of the rope around his neck, deciding that it would not hinder his speech. Clearing his throat, Victor tried to sound confident as he asked, "Are you alright?" He felt his arms shift involuntarily as Yuuri struggled against their holds.

"Just fucking peachy," Yuuri snapped. His wrists felt ready to pop out of their sockets and his chest was scorching everywhere the rope was dragging over his skin. His mental anguish collided with his physical entrapment, making his mind immediately explode into a blind panicked terror. "What the fuck?!"

This time Victor did chuckle. The Yuuri he knew was mild-mannered and calm outside of the ring, almost to the point of being spooky. Yuuri answered questions to the press without inflection and took every opponent without the trash talk and ribbing that everyone else seemed enamored with. There was shock value in hearing Yuuri cuss, and Victor angled his head to drop it back on Yuuri's shoulder, letting his chuckles get the best of him even as the rope tightened around his neck.

"Are you laughing?!" Yuuri grunted, head coming back to rest on Victor's shoulder. The rope around his neck slipped an inch lower, an ominous silent threat that made Yuuri shiver. Victor's body vibrated against his and Yuuri could feel the irritation crawling under his skin. They were tethered together, presumably left to die, and Victor had the audacity to laugh. Gritting his teeth, Yuuri twisted his head and reacted without thinking, nipping quickly at Victor's earlobe to get his attention.

Startled, Victor snapped his head from his attention on the ceiling to look at Yuuri. "Did you bite me?!" he asked, trying not to focus on how close Yuuri's face was to his own. If being leg-locked by Yuuri in the ring was hot, it was nothing compared to being tied to him, half-naked with a rope forcing their upper bodies to remain tightly pressed. For a brief moment, Victor considered what that potentially said about his own level of kinkiness, tilting his head slightly away from Yuuri to try to hide his quickly blushing cheeks.

Victor had asked him something, but Yuuri couldn't process words with Victor's face so close to his own. Phichit had teased him for years over his adoration and idolization of Victor, and his friend's words picked a very inopportune time to come slamming back into his brain. Stuttering out a breath, Yuuri chose to return his gaze to the ceiling, praying his mind would concentrate on his potential death, instead of the gorgeous man currently trapped against his back.

"Stop talking," Yuuri commanded, eyes roaming the room and assessing the dirt walls, only partially ignoring Victor's sharp inhale and the way it made their backs slide together. This room was definitely underground and the wood beams told Yuuri they were still within the confines of the castle. His years of delinquent exploration of this place might finally come in handy. He hoped they survived long enough for him to brag to his parents.

"Where are we?" Following Yuuri's eyes, Victor wondered why Yuuri suddenly looked so calm. He could feel the tension relaxing in Yuuri's back and the confusion rising in his own mind. Raising one of his arms, he peered curiously as Yuuri's came with it. Yuuri didn't fight against Victor's movements, letting Victor guide both of their arms up and down at their sides. Victor felt the urge to laugh again, the sight of his and Yuuri's arms slowly flapping like a Siamese bird was mildly hilarious, even in the middle of their current predicament.

Biting his lip, Yuuri watched as Victor moved their arms, quietly considering Victor's question. "My guess?" he lost his train of thought for a moment, eyes caught on the connection between their wrists making their arms move in tandem motion. "We're under the castle. There are many hidden rooms to this place." Squinting, Yuuri attempted to properly examine the walls. A glint of metal, reflected in the slit of light sneaking from beneath the only door made him grin. "If we can get up, we might be able to get out of these bindings." Flinching as he twisted his wrist, Yuuri wrapped his fingers between Victor's, repeating the process with their other hands before lifting an eyebrow in Victor's direction. "Time to test your core strength, Nikiforov."

The snort escaped Victor before he could prevent it, and Yuuri's resulting smile made his heart stutter in his chest. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should be worried about the possible end to his life, but somehow his only concern was narrowed around the feeling of Yuuri's hands in his own and the teasing hint to the smile on Yuuri's face. Winking, Victor lifted his head from Yuuri's shoulder, repositioning himself so their shoulders were even, despite the slight pull of the rope around his neck. "Ready?" he asked, squeezing Yuuri's hands as he dragged his heels through the dirt of the floor, bending his knees and pushing back against Yuuri.

"On the count of three," Yuuri directed, positioning his own legs to give him leverage. "One… Two… Thr-AH!" Gagging, Yuuri found himself bent forward over his own thighs, Victor arched over top of him while the rope around his neck dug painfully in his throat. Shoving hard, he felt Victor slip back to the ground.

"You said on the count of three!" Victor yelled, immediately glancing toward the door. It hadn't been until that exact moment that he considered the need to be quiet.

"You went in the middle of three!" Yuuri's voice sounded rough, an effect of having the rope so suddenly tightened around him. Huffing, he rolled his shoulders slightly to align them back into place against Victor's back. "This time, move when I say go. And keep your voice down." He threw a worried glance in the direction of the door, holding his breath as he listened for footsteps. Silence greeted his ears, the quiet feeling almost more threatening. If no one was guarding the room, there was a chance that even free from their bindings, they wouldn't find a way out. Quashing that fear before it could envelope him completely, Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek. "Ready?"

Humming his confirmation, Victor furrowed his brow. He was taller than Yuuri which meant quickly calculating the difference in their leg and torso length to adjust the pressure and balance needed to bring them both to a standing position. A prickle of concern told Victor to pay attention to the tension of the ropes higher on his body, knowing that they would pull upwards from their matching locations across Yuuri's neck and chest. Bracing himself with a small sigh, Victor concentrated on Yuuri's counting, carefully controlling his movements and reacting simultaneously with Yuuri's words and body.

Dirt kicked up around them as they pushed their bodies upward, first into a floating seat and then into a full stand. Victor bent his knees, adjusting his height to take on the pressure of the ropes and hopefully relieve some of it from Yuuri.

"On the wall," Yuuri used their joined hands to point to a small metal hook, curling from the middle of the far wall. Victor didn't allow himself time to consider why the sharp hook was there, instead letting his body follow Yuuri's path as they clumsily shifted over the bumpy ground.

Lifting their wrists, Yuuri guided the rope over the curled end of the hook. It was rusted and rough, aged from its years suspended in the dark, damp room. Efficiently, Yuuri worked the ragged edges against the braided strings, eyes squinting to sharpen the angle and attempt to avoid cutting their skin.

With a sigh, the rope fell from their wrists and Victor rolled his several times to loosen the ache. "Other one?" he asked, already beginning to shift his body sideways when he suddenly felt the pressure lessen across his chest. Eyes wide, he watched the rope fall to the ground, his body slumping slightly forward with its freedom. "How did you-" In awe, he saw Yuuri's nimble fingers work the rope free from their other wrists. He flushed when Yuuri dropped to his knees, hands working the ropes at Victor's ankles and yanking them free of the tightly wound knots.

Swinging his own legs out from underneath him, Yuuri quickly applied the same treatment to his own trappings. Bringing himself back up to kneel, he wound the rope around his own waist in rapid movements, tying the ends and tucking them into the top of his shorts. Without explanation, he repeated the same process around Victor's waist. Committing the image of Yuuri's hands skimming his bare stomach while kneeling in front of him to his permanent memory, Victor tried to speak around his own tied tongue. "What are you…" Yuuri's fingers disappeared into the waistband of his shorts, tucking the ends of the curled rope against his hipbone. Victor immediately forgot the question he was attempting to ask.

"Don't know what's out there," Yuuri shrugged, getting to his feet and wiping his hands off on his shorts. He told his heart to settle down, the tingling in his fingertips still lingering after their contact with Victor's skin. "Might need it." He spoke in clipped sentences, feeling the nerves building inside of his chest. Moving away from Victor, Yuuri returned to study the hook in the wall, wrapping his fingers around it and giving it a tentative tug. Their use of it had loosened the grip of the ancient wood beam and Yuuri was able to yank it free, tucking it in the line of rope tied around his waist. It wasn't an ideal weapon, but it was at least sharper than his fists. He hadn't risked another look in Victor's direction, but did now, immediately regretting the reversal of this decision when he discovered the awestruck gape of Victor's beautiful mouth aimed in his direction.

Now that they had defeated the first threat against their lives, Yuuri's mind was working overtime balancing the possibility that there were greater dangers ahead of them and that Victor looked stupidly good despite being kidnapped, tied up, and rolled through the dirt. It was unfair really. Shaking the thought from his head, Yuuri brushed past Victor, swiftly moving to the door and crouching down near its opening seam.

Squatting down next to Yuuri, Victor couldn't resist placing his palm against Yuuri's bare back. The only time he ever had the opportunity to make physical contact with Yuuri was when they were fighting, but after being tied directly to the solid wall of muscle that created the impeccable span of Yuuri's back, Victor found himself craving more of the feeling. He relished the fact that Yuuri didn't shrug him off, leaning closer to Yuuri's body under the guise of doing whatever Yuuri was currently doing.

"No footsteps." Alarmed at the slight shake in his voice, Yuuri softly cleared his throat. Victor's hand was a steady press against his back and Victor's warm breath was ghosting over his shoulder. Yuuri realized that even if there weren't a thousand muscled guards waiting to kill them on the other side of the door, he would surely perish if he had to control himself under Victor's lingering touch for one more second. Deciding that the former option was the least likely to cause his untimely death, Yuuri curled his fingers around the edge of the simple wooden door and pulling it ajar only enough to allow for a cursory examination of the hallway.

It was empty. Confusion contorting his face, Yuuri looked over his shoulder at Victor, signaling for him to stand. Their shoulders brushed as they rose and Yuuri could feel the flare of heat against his skin. Tempering his immediate desire to lean back into Victor's touch, Yuuri took a step into the hallway, tilting his head to silently request that Victor follow him. Speaking now would be a mistake, the amount of hidden dips and rivets in the underground portion of the tunnel able to hide any number of nefarious obstacles and Yuuri didn't want to risk alerting anyone who may still be in the building to their escape. Wrapping his fingers around Victor's wrist, he pulled him down the hallway, moving in a crouch as they hugged the wall.

The empty space smelled like mildewed dirt, with the scent of smoke clinging to the air, burning the inside of their nostrils. Silence filled the space around them, oppressive in nature, broken only by the light scraping of their footsteps and their unsteady breaths. The dirt of the walls was smudging at the touch of their backs, leaving streaks where their bodies accidently bumped too long. Neither of them spoke. Moving together, they made their way down the darkened hallway, falling into a steady rhythm with Yuuri confidently leading the way.

A single cry shattered the silence around them and Victor gasped as Yuuri pushed him back against the wall. Hand clamped over his mouth, fierce brown eyes bore into Victor's wide blue ones, commanding him to stay silent while Yuuri angled his head to listen.

Harsh Japanese made Yuuri shudder against Victor, the voice deep and full of menacing authority. The cry was stifled to a whimper and Yuuri recognized a familiar voice, fierce its response to the aggressor and then soothing in response to the childish whimpers. A sharp slap sound, distinctly identifiable as the sound of skin-on-skin made Yuuri's stomach curl in a swirling mass of sickness and anger. Balling his fist in the place where it rested against Victor's hip, he released Victor's mouth, raising his index finger against his lips to request Victor's silence.

At the sound of footsteps, Yuuri twisted his body, forcing Victor deeper into the crevice in the wall with the press of his back against Victor's chest. Blood pounded in his ears as the shadow of a man fell across the crevice opening, followed seconds later by the man himself.

Telling himself he was concerned with protecting Yuuri, Victor slipped his hand around Yuuri's waist, pressing his palm flat to Yuuri's abdomen. Under any other circumstances, Victor would have considered the move too forward, but seeing as they were likely going to die in the dirt-filled underground of some ancient castle, he figured he would steal whatever moments life presented him. Even in the tense minutes as they listened to the footsteps stomping down the walkway, Victor couldn't help the pleasure he felt with Yuuri under his fingertips. Tipping his head forward, Victor almost lost his control, barely catching himself a breath from Yuuri's shoulder where he was about to press a kiss.

Another cry, muted but still painfully scared, reached them from somewhere nearby. Bending forward at the waist, Yuuri peered out from their hiding place, discovering them once again alone. If he shifted his weight, unnecessarily rubbing his ass against where it was pressed firmly against Victor, he told himself it was merely to keep Victor safe from any impending danger. Feeling the flutter of Victor's fingertips against his stomach, Yuuri smirked before slipping back down the hallway and toward the direction of the ongoing whimpers.

Outside of another dank and age-swollen door, Yuuri paused again, rolling his eyes to keep himself from blushing when Victor returned to his position pressed behind Yuuri's back. It was slightly ridiculous how close Victor was holding himself, but Yuuri wasn't about to push him away. If these were his last moments on earth, he was going to soak up any attention Victor was going to offer.

A sob, high-pitched and distinctly childlike, broke the plane of the door, interrupting Yuuri's distracted thoughts. He recognized the sound, his body experiencing a visceral reaction to the sobs of a familiar child. It was unmistakably a child Yuuri had held in his arms only four hours after her birth, and patched booboos on her knees with kisses and Hello Kitty bandages. Only Lutz could produce such a heart-twisting cry, and Yuuri stormed forward into the room, ready to battle whoever was hurting her.

Startled grunts and a four-part harmony call of "Yuuri!" were the soundtrack of the first strike of Yuuri's fist to the unsuspecting guard. Ducking the lunge of another, Yuuri swung his leg in a circle, colliding with the back of the man's knees and sending him face first into a wall. Instead of scared squeals, the bound group in the middle of the room began to cheer, their mother attempting to shush them with a worried look.

Not one to let anyone else have all the fun, Victor sidestepped between Yuuri and an attacker attempting to tackle him from behind. Catching the man's neck in the crook of his elbow, Victor lifted him off his feet, slamming his back into the ground with a sickening crack as his bald head rapped against the floor. He remained unconscious, allowing Victor to step over him and meet the next assailant with a brutal fist to the bridge of his nose. The man hit the ground sputtering on his own blood, crying out when Victor snagged him by the sides of his face and introduced his already bloody face to the power of Victor's knee.

Throwing an elbow at a backwards angle, Yuuri heard the satisfying thud of a successful hit. Spinning on his heel, he unleashed his strength, boxing the man repeatedly in the side of the head until he joined the others in the bloodied pile of bodies on the floor.

"Yuuri!"

His stomach rolled as he heard Yuuko shout his name. Ramming his fist hard into the soft temple of his current opponent, Yuuri spun on his heel eyes falling on Yuuko's flailing body being dragged backwards toward the door. The girls were huddled into a back corner, Victor squatting next to them, working the knots tying their ropes free with his tongue pinched between his teeth. Reacting to Yuuko's second cry, Yuuri launched himself toward the wall, kicking off it and spinning in the air, landing a flying kick to the captor's side. Yuuko hit the ground, hand gripping at her throat.

Yuuri landed, wrapping his fingers into the man's collared shirt and hauling him to his feet. Slamming him into the wall, Yuuri demanded to know the whereabouts of Takeshi, growling the words in Japanese and slamming the man again when he remained silent.

A hand, soft and hesitant touched Victor's shoulder. Peering back at the woman who Yuuri had rescued, he struggled to find words to reassure her, pausing when the glint of blade caught his eye. "Yuuri!" he sprang to his feet, diving across the small room, hand outstretched and prepared to take the hit. Instead his fingers caught the man on the elbow, changing the blade's trajectory and slicing the skin above Yuuri's hip bone.

Roaring, Yuuri drove his forearm into the man's neck, jabbing his other arm across his body and seizing the hand holding the knife. Letting his anger cloud his judgement, Yuuri closed his fist, the sound of breaking bones filling the room as Yuuri crushed the man's fingers and twisted his wrist in an unnatural direction. Above him, the man's face went white, his airway restricted causing him to go limp against Yuuri's arm. Yuuri loosened his grip, letting the body slip onto the ground. Panting, Yuuri stepped back, hand clamping over his side as he fell back against the wall.

"Where is he?" Yuuri asked, breath ragged, eyes trained on the floor. He curled his fingers into his skin, the red of his blood seeping out around his knuckles and making his stomach roll.

Frozen on the ground, Victor starred at the blood running over Yuuri's hip. They made their livelihoods bloodying each other, but the sight of Yuuri, cut open and bleeding was ripping Victor's mind apart. He had tried to stop it and failed, the lightening quickness he was known for in the ring turning out to be absolutely no help in real combat. Unable to gather a cohesive thought, Victor continued to gape at the wound on Yuuri's side.

"I'm so sorry, Yuuri," Yuuko scrambled over the dirt floor, tripping on the hem of her dress as she pulled herself to her feet. "They were threatening me and the kids. These guys have been using us to manipulate Takeshi. I don't know what they want, but I know they forced him to have the competition here and they have been following us. They killed our bodyguards and took their places. I wanted to warn you, but every second since you arrived we have been watched. It's why we didn't come to the onsen before your fight, I didn't want to endanger your parents." Dropping to her knees, Yuuko began to cry, shoulders heaving with the overpowering emotions. "I'm so sorry, Yuuri, I'm so sorry."

Scuffling feet brought Yuuri's head up, the tears wet on his own cheeks as Axel, Lutz, and Loop crowded around their mother. Yuuko had been his childhood best friend, Takeshi as well once he grew out of his asshole phase, and these three little girls had been the first children Yuuri had truly loved. This family was as close to him as his own parents and sister and Yuuri found himself falling to his knees, using the arm not pressed to his side to pull his childhood friend to his chest.

"I'm going to find him, Yuuko," Yuuri whispered, wincing as her weight caused pressure on his torso. "I promise I am going to get you out of here and I'm going to find him."

"We," Victor spoke for the first time since he shouted Yuuri's name. Waiting until Yuuri met his eyes, Victor lifted his jaw, daring Yuuri to argue. "We are going to get them out of here. We are going to find your friend." Not backing down when Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, Victor inched forward to place a firm hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "We were supposed to fight the fight of our lives tonight. Together. So why don't we?"

Feeling the smirk pulling at the side of his mouth, Yuuri gave Victor a curt nod. "First, we get them out of here, then we find Takeshi. You ready for this, Nikiforov?" he teased, eyes twinkling as they challenged Victor's, the pain in his side burning with every breath and his head spinning with all the promises he was making.

"As ready as you are," Victor pushed back, eyes flicking down to Yuuri's side. Plastering a fake smile over his face to hide his immense worry over Yuuri's injury, he turned to look at the little girls peering at him from their mother's side. "Ready to do a castle run?" he asked, pulling out his very limited knowledge about children's games. He let his laughter slip when all three of them groaned.

"You are in love with a guy who makes terrible jokes, Yuuri-ji-chan," Axel joked, the relief of Victor's humor amid the tense situation evidenced in her smile.

"Axel!" Yuuko, Lutz, and Loop exclaimed at once, all of them glaring daggers in her direction as Axel shrugged her shoulders.

Yuuri turned red, blushing into his hairline and purposely squeezing his wound to cover up his embarrassed squawk. Shoving off the ground, Yuuri shook his head, leaning toward the door. "Alright, let's get you out of here before you cause any more trouble." He refused to look at Victor, using his shoulder to push open the door and flicking his head to indicate that the group follow him.

Dazed and reeling from little Axel's words, Victor followed the group, praying that he and Yuuri would live long enough for him to find out if the cheeky child was telling the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

All of the underground tunnels were a winding labyrinth of damp dirt and impending doom. Despite the number of upgrades made to the upper floors, the underneath areas had gone untouched. Old lanterns, whose fixtures had been replaced twenty years ago to use lightbulbs, worked only in sporadic order, causing them to move between periods of light and dark.

Yuuri had been slightly offended when he had received the packet indicating Hasetsu castle was going to be the location of his fight against Victor. He had known that the fight was going to take place in Hasetsu, the location itself having been set prior to the final announcement of the international tournament bracket, but he had never imagined that Takeshi, or the town for that matter, would allow the public such open access to one of its cherished landmarks.

Although he didn't have all the pieces yet, he supposed that Takeshi's manipulation through the threat of harm to his family played a large role in the decision. Despite the Nirogishi's being "humble business owners," Yuuri knew that meant they now owned most of the properties which housed the town's most popular businesses. Takeshi was a prominent figure in the fighting world as well, working closely with the UFC to plan and execute the tournaments and brackets that occurred in Japan. Yuuri still couldn't explain how Takeshi had gone from attending Yuuri's fights, to sitting among the organization's figureheads, but he always admired Takeshi's tenacity for networking.

The international tournament had been a chance for Takeshi to increase tourism to Hasetsu and Yuuri had accepted this fact, even though the idea of being inside of Hasetsu castle still bothered him. It was even more unsettling now, after watching an undetermined amount of the castle be destroyed by an explosion and being dumped unconscious in the bowels of the place. Grunting with the thought, Yuuri pulled his mind back to the present, refocusing on putting one foot in front of the other as he led their small group through the dimly lit tunnels.

Footsteps, light but still noticeable, approached from an opening ahead of them to the left. Using his free arm, Yuuri guided Yuuko and the girls back against the wall, bracing himself to take on whoever was about to appear around the corner. His heart hammered in his chest, only calming slightly when Victor took a place at his side, already braced for another round of fighting.

Tension hung in the air as the footsteps came to an abrupt stop. Holding his breath, Yuuri carefully pulled his hand from his side, the dirt and blood caked on his wound providing a momentary seal against the bleeding. A body hurled around the corner, arm striking out and colliding with Yuuri's forearm as he lifted it to block the blow.

"Yuuri?"

Hearing his name, this time not shouted but spoken with the level of condescending relief that only a sister could produce, Yuuri dropped his arms. "Mari?"

"Mari-san!" The triplets threw themselves forward, no longer controlling their volume. Panicked Yuuri scanned the hallway making sure there were not adversarial humans approaching them from any direction.

"Mari, what are you doing here?" Yuuri winced, sucking in his breath and grappling back at his side.

"News of the explosion has spread. People are leaving town, but when you didn't return and Phichit burst into the onsen screaming about Yuuko, I figured something bigger was going on." Cracking her neck, Mari let the triplets hang on her waist. "The way is clear if we head back out the side tunnels."

What she didn't say, and what Yuuri and Yuuko acknowledged through a shared glance, was that the way was clear except for the bodies they would have to step over. Mari had been the one who had taught Yuuri how to fight, and although she had given up her dreams to allow Yuuri to chase his, she was still the best fighter Yuuri had ever known. Even in their scrimmages, including the one she had dragged him into last night, she was still as agile and lethal as she ever was. Anyone who had encountered Mari and attempted to prevent her from her rescue mission surely met with a world of pain greater than they could have ever imagined.

"Take Yuuko and the girls. Get them to mom and dad and don't let anyone see them." Yuuri squared his shoulders when he saw Mari's eyes take in the wound on his side, sucking in his breath to conceal the pain still searing into his side. "Victor and I are going after Takeshi. I think he might still be somewhere in the building. They wanted this place for a reason, I intend to find out why." He hadn't known that the thought was in his head until he was saying the words out loud. Rolling the thought through his mind again, Yuuri knew it had to be true. Someone wanted access to the castle and they used Takeshi to get it, there was no way they would leave before getting what they came for; Yuuri only hoped that meant that Takeshi was still inside somewhere.

"Yuuri," Mari warned, speaking in English while squaring her shoulders to mimic her brother's stance. "You don't know who or what you're facing. You are hurt. You aren't even dressed." She flung a hand between Yuuri and Victor, making the triplets laugh. "You fight in a ring, with rules and referees. That doesn't translate to fighting guys with guns. You are going to get yourself killed, little brother."

Fascinated, Victor let his mind wrap around the fact that the fierce woman with the calm voice was Yuuri's sister. He wanted to ask questions, the compulsive part of him noted the bruises rising on Mari's hands and forearms and was screaming at him to ask if she was a fighter too. Instead, he took a step forward, lightly pressing his shoulder to Yuuri's as a sign of support.

"If I don't try," Yuuri glanced to his side as Victor stepped up, "if we don't try, then it could be Takeshi's life on the line. I'm not willing to risk that. Get them to safety, Mari. Tell mom and dad that I love them." Wincing again as little arms circled his waist, Yuuri shifted to keep the triplets from putting pressure on his injured side. They took turns hugging him, accepting his decision far faster than either Mari or Yuuko.

Sighing, Mari stepped aside to let Yuuko and the girls move around the corner from where she came. "Check the old throne room. It is big and doesn't have outside access. Something tells me that whoever is doing this probably doesn't want an audience for whatever they are doing. First, go wherever your trainer was supposed to be. I hope for your sake, you still remember how to stitch a cut." Turning her back on Yuuri and Victor, Mari paused. "Good luck, Yuuri. Come back to us." Without looking back, Mari disappeared into the darkness.

Fading footsteps padded down the dirt tunnel and Yuuri tracked them until they could no longer be heard. His mind felt clouded, the pain in his side beginning to bleed into his ability to function as the world suddenly seemed to be tilting. Feeling his legs begin to give out, Yuuri resigned himself to falling onto the floor. Instead his body was lifted into the air, a pair of strong arms hooking underneath his legs and carefully cradling him under his back.

"Can you get us to a training room?" Victor asked, his chest expanding with the effort of holding Yuuri's weight. "If we run into anyone else, I will set you down and then kick their asses." He grinned, a failing attempt to reassure Yuuri even as the concern danced in his eyes. Yuuri's color was no longer tinged with pink, but was instead a muted pallor highlighted with smears of sweat and dirt. Victor didn't want to admit that he was scared, but he was absolutely terrified for Yuuri's safety.

"I'll get us there," Yuuri looped his arms over Victor's shoulders, hissing as the slice in his skin opened again. "Just don't drop me." Tucking his head into Victor's neck, Yuuri counted to ten in his mind to slow his heartbeat. "Go straight," Yuuri paused to chuckle as Victor muttered "that would be a first," shaking his head against Victor's shoulder. "Stay on this path," he emphasized every word, liking the feeling of Victor's chuckles rumbling in his chest, "hang a right where it dead ends."

Hoisting Yuuri up higher in his arms, Victor set off into the darkness, silently begging Yuuri to be okay with every step.

* * *

"Fuuccckkkk…"

The water in the basin of the sink ran red and brown, Yuuri's low groan of a curse strangely matching the rhythm of the sickly colored swirl disappearing down the drain. His scalp burned where he was pulling on the strands of his hair, keeping his own hands out of the way as he allowed Victor to clean the sizeable gash in his side.

If it hadn't been for his exertion and the contamination of the wound, its edges would have been smooth. Yuuri had hooked the knife into his makeshift rope belt, which now lay discarded on the metal table stained red with his blood in the same manner as the blade that had cut him. When he had patiently allowed Victor to unwind the rope from around his waist, he had studied the blade to distract himself from the feeling of Victor touching him. Even ripped open and bleeding, the feeling of Victor's fingers on his bare skin had caused the heat inside of him to reignite.

"Damn it," Yuuri growled, training his eyes on the bright white of the ceiling, breathing through the sting of the warm cloth scraping the dirt from the edges of his cut.

Victor felt sick. Perched on a stool, he hunched over at the waist, bringing his face closer to Yuuri's body to thoroughly clean the area on Yuuri's side which continued to bleed despite Victor's best efforts to stop it. He was meticulous in his scrubbing, breathing through his mouth as the iron smell of Yuuri's blood began to turn his stomach. Tossing his third rag into the sink, Victor reached for the last available clean towel, covering his palm with the fabric and pressing it hard against Yuuri's side. He felt the warmth spread up his arm as Yuuri's hand came down to cover his.

'Mari's right, I need to stitch it," using his other hand, Yuuri pulled Victor's hand away from his body. Keeping a firm hold on the towel, Yuuri moved to the opposite side of the room, pulling Celestino's abandoned tackle box across the counter. Carefully he pulled the antiseptic, numbing spray and suture kit from each of their layers, placing each item on the counter. Luckily, there was a single mirror mounted on the wall of the renovated space and Yuuri lined himself in front of it, psyching himself up for what he was about to do.

"You're not…" Victor trailed off, catching Yuuri's gaze in the mirror. The stubborn determination burned in Yuuri's eyes, and Victor halted his argument at those two words. "How can I help?" was where he went instead, taking his place back at Yuuri's side.

"Wipe the blood for me, if you don't mind." Yuuri was already prepping his suture, laying the needle across the counter and retrieving the antiseptic. Popping the bottle open with his teeth, Yuuri poured it directly over his side, letting the excess run onto the towel Victor held and gritting his teeth against the sting. He closed his eyes as Victor patted his skin dry, taking a breath and reaching out to grab the numbing spray. It wouldn't numb him nearly enough, but Yuuri was used to pain and he had sewn himself shut plenty of times in life. None of his stitch work had ever been more than a handful of stitches, but unfortunately he didn't have that luxury this time around. He needed to get his side closed up and get back to locating Takeshi as soon as possible. With a shaking hand, he sprayed down his side, tossing the can back on the counter and retrieving the already threaded needle. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek and sank the needle home.

Victor gagged, covering up his reaction with a small cough as he trained his eyes away from Yuuri's remarkably sturdy hands. He had a hard time getting stitches when a doctor was creating them, and couldn't believe the quiet way Yuuri was currently piercing his own skin, methodically closing his own wound without a single sound. Victor had always known Yuuri was tough, had always admired and waxed poetic about his toughness, but none of that compared to what he had seen from Yuuri over the last couple of hours. His crush on Yuuri Katsuki had grown from a distant fascination to an all-out obsession.

 _Slow,_ Yuuri told himself, humming the word inside of his mind. _Steady. Careful. Don't rush_. He repeated his sister's words over in his mind, remembering the first time Mari had taught him how to stitch a wound. He had split his calf on an ill-timed kick on an overstuffed bag, lamenting over the fact that their parents definitely didn't need the stress of taking Yuuri to the hospital (again). Mari had shoved him into the onsen showers, going down on one knee to clean the back of his leg, muttering under her breath about bad form. She had made him stitch it himself though, and for that lesson (among so many other things) he would be eternally grateful.

The last stitch pinched together the remaining miniscule fraction of his skin and Yuuri concentrated as he finished his handiwork, mildly impressed with his own results. He nodded at Victor when the towel was raised in question, grabbing the bottle of antiseptic and pouring the last of the liquid down his side. The press of Victor's fingers beneath the terry cloth was contrast to the sting of the cool liquid and Yuuri closed his eyes to focus on the former. When Victor let out an impressed hum, Yuuri tilted his head back down to look at him. Poking Victor at the peak of the part in his hair, Yuuri whispered "thank you."

Those two words sank directly to the depths of Victor's heart as he raised his face to study Yuuri's. On the surface, Yuuri's gratitude was attributed to Victor's help in getting him back into one piece. Underneath, however, those two words sang of a thankfulness which encompassed every moment since they had leapt from the octagon and every moment that still laid before them. The meaning sparkled in Yuuri's eyes and it radiated from the soft smile parting Yuuri's lips.

Emotional with his understanding, Victor slowly rose to his feet, dropping the towel onto the counter and gently using his fingers to guide Yuuri to face him fully. For a moment, Victor searched Yuuri's face, looking for resistance or rebuttal of their closeness. When he found none, he took a deep, pressing forward and chancing a kiss against Yuuri's lips.

Yuuri had spent a remarkable amount of time considering the circumstances in which he would ever find himself kissing Victor Nikiforov. There had been entire drunken nights with Phichit, where they had suggested the most outrageous scenarios imaginable in which the two rivals would find themselves coming together, in every meaning of the word.

None of those hypothetical situations included being bloody, muddy, and stupidly determined to get themselves killed by partaking in a rescue mission that they were unprepared for. Still, Yuuri wouldn't deny himself this, especially as it was Victor who had made the first move. Reaching to curl his fingers between the tangled silver locks, he shifted his hips, bracing his lower back against the counter and sighing with the pressure of Victor's body against his own.

Victor had imagined this moment. He always believed Yuuri would kiss the same way he fought, full of fire and raw emotion. Even with that expectation, the reality of Yuuri's power had Victor's brain softening into a pile of heated goo. He forgot that they were currently working on borrowed time, every minute that passed one minute closer to someone discovering they had escaped. He ignored the fact that they were going to leave this room and engage in a fight that could potentially be their last. Instead he fell into the natural rhythm of his lips against Yuuri's, kissing Yuuri as if they had been doing so their entire lives.

A shout, in deep, guttural Russian, echoed down the hallway outside of the training room door. Yanking themselves apart, Victor remained chest-to-chest with Yuuri, eyes flicking between the furrow in Yuuri's brow and the nervous jump of Yuuri's pulse in his neck. Swallowing hard, Victor placed a single finger to his lips, straining to hear the words being spoken.

"No one is down there!" Footsteps came closer with every word, punctuating the anger of each syllable. Raising an eyebrow at Yuuri, Victor remained silent. "All gone. Bunch of bodies though. Pretty sure Vlad is dead." Curiosity had Victor wondering whether it was him or Yuuri who had potentially killed someone, a sick feeling in his stomach settling when the reality of that possibility set in. They had done what they needed to do to save themselves and Yuuri's friends, but Victor had never intended to take another person's life.

Shaking his head when Yuuri tried to get his attention, Victor nodded toward the door. He had the ability to protect Yuuri from the same knowledge, and clutched to that as he stepped back to put space between them. Witnessing the worry flicker over Yuuri's face, Victor leaned forward to swipe a kiss against Yuuri's cheek, still listening to the interaction occurring outside of their door.

"Boss isn't going to like that they got out." The speaker was closer to them than the last voice, making both Yuuri and Victor react by moving into defensive stances. Glancing sideways at each other, they stifled nervous laughter behind their hands. No one knew they were tucked away inside the small room, but they were ready to fight their way out if need be.

"Don't tell him about it." The original speaker was equally close now, causing Yuuri and Victor to freeze in their positions. Two on two would still be a fair fight, but hearing what was being said was a more valuable choice. "What he doesn't know won't kill him… or us." The two men laughed, the sound fading as they moved away.

Squeezing Victor's arm, Yuuri silently inquired as to what he had heard. Russian was certainly on his list of languages to study, but currently he was feeling lucky that he had merely recognized it. Unfortunately, his knowledge of the Russian language consisted of the translations for "thank you" and "nice fight," leaving Yuuri completely in the dark regarding what the other men had said. The adrenaline from kissing Victor had already pushed his heart back to a racing pace, and he was positive that it was going to explode from his chest with the crippling uncertainty now banging around instead of him.

Dropping back against the examine table in the middle of the room, Victor sighed. "They know we escaped. The second guy wanted to tell 'the boss'," Victor used air quotes to emphasize the exact phrasing, "but the first one told him not to. Said something about them getting killed for letting us get away." Without overthinking it, Victor reached for Yuuri again, hooking a finger in the top of Yuuri's shorts to encourage him forward. There was comfort in touching Yuuri, and Victor let himself fall into it as he threw his arms over Yuuri's shoulders.

Normally, Yuuri would have analyzed Victor's closeness and driven himself mad over what it could mean. Without the luxury of time or the promise of life beyond the next few hours, Yuuri chucked all of his old hesitations aside, bringing his arms to link his hands behind Victor's bare back. "Nothing about Mari, right? Or planning to go after Yuuko and the girls?" Yuuri would have faced a thousand enemies if it meant distracting them all long enough for the people who mattered to get to safety. His considered himself dispensable, but Yuuko, Mari and the girls were not.

"I'm assuming," Victor paused as he ran the tips of his fingers over Yuuri's bare shoulders and into his hairline, distracted momentarily by the softness of Yuuri's skin. He smiled sheepishly when Yuuri nudged him. "I'm assuming," he restarted, "that they were included when they spoke of missing people. But nothing was explicitly said about them."

Relief spread through Yuuri's chest. He had no disillusions about the life-threatening decisions he and Victor had made, but he couldn't live with himself if his sister and oldest friends hadn't made it out safely. Even as his mind tried to tell him that they weren't necessarily safe, Yuuri forcibly shoved the thought away, convincing himself that he had to believe in the best case scenario. This included living through saving Takeshi and hopefully having more chances to kiss Victor. As his brain switched gears, Yuuri frowned, looking back up at Victor. "You kissed me."

Victor couldn't avoid snorting at the shock and accusation in Yuuri's whisper. "I did," he answered with a shrug of his shoulder, trying to appear casual despite the nerves now raving inside of his stomach. "I should have done so a long time ago. Considering we are about to make some very brave, yet very stupid joint decisions, I decided it would be foolish to wait any longer." Victor knew he was babbling, but he was terrified to stop talking on the off chance that Yuuri was going to reject him. "Besides, I figured if you decided to hit me, the power of your punch would at least be less significant with the gash in your side-"

"Victor," Yuuri interrupted, tugging on the rope still wrapped around Victor's waist. "I'm not mad that you kissed me. I'm happy." He waited, eyes trained on Victor's face as he watched the realization set in. Yuuri let his smile take over as Victor's cheeks turned pink.

"Yeah?" Leaning down, Victor trailed his nose along the bridge of Yuuri's, "me too." Before Yuuri could respond again, Victor was kissing him. He felt selfish stealing these moments with Yuuri, knowing that they had other, more important goals to accomplish, but he couldn't pull away. If he was going to die within the walls of this ancient castle, he was not going to do so without fulfilling this unsatisfied part of his heart.

Everything about kissing Victor was perfect. In the same way that they pushed and pulled each other in a fight, they moved together in their kiss. Yuuri felt a lightness settling into his mind, a calm clashing against the excitement buzzing through his body. It would be so easy to forget why they were stowed away in the trainer room, to let the last few hours fall away along with their plans to play rescuers. Getting lost in Victor was so tempting. The feel of Victor's hands in his hair and Victor's chest sliding against his own was quickly building to an addiction in Yuuri's mind. Yet…

Pulling back, Yuuri rested his head on Victor's shoulder. "We can't stay here forever," he remarked, the voice in his head screaming a defiant "why not!" as Yuuri registered Victor's physical signs of arousal. Internally, he groaned with the desire that had been nothing but a sleeping beast inside of him until Victor kissed him. Externally, he hugged Victor around the waist, before dropping his arms and stepping back. "We have to find Takeshi."

The part of Victor that always questioned whether people genuinely cared about him revved up in his mind, attempting to overthrow all the positive feelings of finally having Yuuri close enough to touch. With a frown, Victor nodded, reaching behind him and wrapping his fingers around the dagger which had been abandoned on the table. Opening his palm, he offered the blade to Yuuri with a sad smile.

"If we make it out of here alive…" Yuuri reached around Victor to seize the rope on the table, bringing them back into each other's space. Feeling the powerful heat between them, Yuuri cleared his throat and amended his statement. "When we make it out of here alive, would you want to stay with me and my family for a while? I can show you the non-deadly parts of Hasetsu."

Relief was the driving force behind Victor's quick laugh, and his instant decision to tackle Yuuri into another kiss. Somehow, Yuuri had driven out Victor's worries, without ever knowing that they were there. "Of course," Victor answered against Yuuri's lips, "when we make it out I'm all yours." With one last kiss, Victor pushed away from the table, cocking one hip to consider Yuuri. "Now… what's the plan?"

Nodding, a smug smirk tinted with deadly determination, Yuuri began to describe exactly how they were going to make their way to the throne room.


	3. Chapter 3

"I have to say," Victor whispered in Yuuri's ear, crouching with his bare shoulder pressed against Yuuri's equally naked one, "that I am glad I trust you, because I have no idea how we got here."

Yuuri couldn't help his smirk, as he glanced sideways at Victor. _Here_ was a secret elevated room, tucked behind one of the decorative paintings and once used for hidden security when past royalty entertained hostile guests. It was a room that he had learned about in his history lessons and explored during his days of invading the castle with Mari.

His childhood investigations had also revealed that the painting outlining the wall facing into the throne room was designed to protect from shadows being projected and had tiny openings to allow for unobstructed observation of the room below. Pointing to a hole in the eye of an orange fish he nodded to encourage Victor to look through it. Yuuri settled into place behind his own set of holes, hidden in the tentacles of a giant purple squid.

Below them, men moved through the vast throne room, heavy footed in dark boots and speaking in quick Russian. Their movements were methodical, slowly dragging in golden statutes from all corners of the castle, grunting and cursing with the effort. Victor's joke had been a welcome interruption to Yuuri's angry internal ranting about the desecration of his home's most famous landmark. Silently he slipped his hand over Victor's to give it an appreciative squeeze.

Glancing over his shoulder, Yuuri listened for voices closer than those below them. They had met only a handful of adversaries on their way to their current hiding spot, and all of them had been disposed of quickly. Later, if they made it out of here, Yuuri would probably relive the horror of fighting without options for his opponents other than unconsciousness or death. For now, he was determined to compartmentalize every action they were taking, concentrating only on moving forward and not the violence needed to get there.

"What is all of that?" Victor peered down at the statutes being tossed into a careless pile, brow creasing as his eyes followed the lines of men continuing to drag them in from every side.

"Only a major part of the history of Hasetsu. Being melted down to what looks like gold bars. In an enclosed throne room." Yuuri could feel the anger roll again inside of him, clenching his jaw as his fist balled against his tensed thigh. "Not only are we dealing with violent assholes, but they are also extremely culturally insensitive… and greedy." Any urge to spare the men taking over the castle was extinguishing rapidly from Yuuri's heart.

Opening his mouth to respond, Victor stuttered on his thought as he watched a familiar man stride into the room. Behind him, there were two other men Victor recognized, dragging a third by the armpits. His eyes flickered to Yuuri when he heard Yuuri's sharp intake of breath and immediately Victor realized the captive man was the one Yuuri was looking for. Hesitantly, Victor tilted his head, only half listening to the orders being shouted across the room.

"That's Takeshi," Yuuri nodded in Takeshi's direction, wincing as his friend was tossed onto the ground. His eyesight was blurry from this distance, but Takeshi had a distinct form, built from muscle covered in layers of fluffy fat gifted to him by years of Yuuko's outstanding cooking. Even if he couldn't see the details of Takeshi's face, Yuuri would recognize his friend's shape anywhere.

"And that's Abram," Victor spoke without thinking, eyes going wide as he felt Yuuri shift next to him. Heart stammering in his chest, Victor kept his eyes trained on the men surrounding Takeshi. "The younger two are Yuri and Otabek," Victor trailed a shaky finger over the canvas of the wall, drawing a line between the biggest man in the room and the two youngest, "they are fighters as well. I don't understand how they are mixed up in this."

Neither of the young men looked particularly thrilled to be in the midst of whatever plan was being orchestrated in front of them. In fact, Otabek looked distinctly close to tears while Yuri wore a scowl deeper than Victor had ever seen. Briefly, he wondered if they were also being manipulated in some way, the thought barely blooming in his mind before it was interrupted by Yuuri slapping his shoulder. Throwing a hand in the air, Victor rebuffed Yuuri's questioning look without a word.

"Are you telling me you know these guys?" Yuuri noted Victor's wince, slapping Victor's shoulder again in disbelief. " _Why_ do you know them?"

"Well, Yuri trained with me and Otabek is his best friend…" Victor trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek trying to decide how to approach his knowledge of the third man. The man who was currently barking orders at everyone else in the room. The man who was seemingly _in charge_.

"And that guy?" Yuuri asked, one eyebrow arched as he pointed his finger against the canvas slightly to the left of his intended target, aiming the tip of it at another muscled Russian grunting under the weight of a gold fish. He looked away from his peephole to give Victor a pointed look.

"That guy, I don't know at all." Victor evaded Yuuri's question by playing dumb, using Yuuri's obvious miscalculation due to his hindered eyesight. Becoming sheepish when Yuuri scowled at him, Victor reached over to shift Yuuri's pointing hand, peering through the hole to make sure he was still looking at Abram. When Yuuri returned his gaze to the throne room, Victor grimaced as he tried to figure out a way to explain that wouldn't result in Yuuri being upset.

"That guy, I… well… I might have dated him for a couple of weeks." He tried to make the admission sound nonchalant, shrugging his shoulder as he dropped Yuuri's hand. "He traveled a lot, so it amounted to… maybe three dates? But I think I deserve more attention than that, don't you?" Leaning closer to Yuuri, Victor attempted a subject change through blatant flirting.

Unconsciously, Yuuri let his hand slip around Victor's waist, his body automatically moving to close the distance between them. Stopping his forward lean an inch away from Victor's mouth, Yuuri sat backwards, landing with a muted thud on the wood floor. "Wait! You are not avoiding the question by kissing me!"

Suppressing his desire to chuckle at Yuuri's adorably offended look should have earned Victor a trophy in self-restraint. Yuuri's bottom lip poked out slightly, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Victor. The look was not intimidating, and Victor found himself crawling across the floor in pursuit of putting himself back into Yuuri's space. He pouted his own bottom lip when Yuuri stopped him with a hand pressed over Victor's face, smashing his nose slightly as Yuuri rebuffed his advances.

"I can't believe…" Yuuri's sentence trailed off as the swinging door to their current hiding place creaked open. He cursed, realizing that they had been too distracted by each other to keep their volume down.

Men spread into the room, looming over Victor and Yuuri. Without hesitating, Victor kicked his left leg out, striking the nearest man in the knee cap and immediately sliding backwards to spring to his feet. Moving in the opposite direction, Yuuri rolled between his two closest opponents, striking out at their legs as they attempted to reach for him. Spinning, Victor moved himself into the middle of the group, feeling Yuuri crash against his back. Bracing themselves there, they faced their attackers with matching grimaces which were eerily highlighted by the lack of proper lighting. The men took steps toward them, encroaching on their space, and Victor felt Yuuri hum. As if they were dancing, Victor and Yuuri began to move, blocking and attacking with the steady beat of their fight.

Huffs and grunts filled the darkened musty space, echoing off of the walls as the bodies were thrown down, limp from the harsh beatings they were receiving. The single overhead light was swinging in a circle, creating a dancing pattern of light which reflected off the sweat-slicked skin of the two men positioned underneath it. The air had grown unbearably warm and thick with the smell of blood and sweat, rancid with the perspiration of body-crushing exertion produced in their fight of a seemingly endless battle.

"I still can't believe you dated the guy currently raiding the castle." Thrusting his fist upward in a powerful uppercut, Yuuri quickly shifted to block a blow from his left, shoving his second attacker against the wall.

"Dated and dumped," Victor clarified, flipping the man charging toward him onto the ground. The sickening crunch of the man's neck had his stomach flipping, but he didn't have time to dwell on it as the next man rushed toward him.

"You didn't…" Yuuri grunted, throwing his elbow into the nearest bloodied face. "Never mind, I don't want to know." He shook his head, watching with relief as the man's eyes rolled back into his head, slumping to the ground in an unconscious heap.

"Yuuri!" Victor gasped dramatically, throwing a wounded look over his shoulder before whirling back around. Driving his fist into the closest man's face, Victor felt the ache zing through his knuckles as the shock flowed through his body. Even his properly formed hits were beginning to cause pain, signaling to Victor that his body was reaching its tapping out point.

Shaking his hand, Victor spun again to face another resurrected opponent, unwilling to let Yuuri's comments go uncorrected despite the effort of fighting. "What kind of man to do you take me for? I require at least five quality dates before _that_ ," Victor dodged a fist swung at his head and spun backwards to re-center himself in the room, "And Abram took me on three. One of them consisted of what I am almost positive was a drug deal," kicking his leg high, Victor demolished the side of his attacker's face. "Especially now." Taking a step backwards, Victor eyed his last opponent, registering Yuuri standing against his own last man.

Backing up, Yuuri felt the damp skin of his back again collide with Victor's naked back, slipping easily against each other as they braced themselves for impact. "How about six hours of fighting and a soak in the world's best hot spring?" Throwing a coy glance over his shoulder, Yuuri found Victor mirroring his smirk. Laughing as Victor wiggled his eyebrows in response, Yuuri returned his focus to the dazed man in front of him. "Ready to kick some more ass?" Cracking his neck, Yuuri eyed the last of his targets between his raised fists.

"Kick theirs, then kiss yours," Victor answered, raising his eyebrow at the men stalking in a circle around them. The bloodied and bruised faces looked like they were begging for death and with his smirk still in place, Victor lifted a single hand beckoning them closer to their imminent demise.

Feeling the heat increase in his cheeks, Yuuri drove his fist into the approaching man's stomach, dropping his elbow hard against the base of the man's neck when he doubled over from the strike. "I should at least shower before you kiss my ass, don't you think?" Laughing, Yuuri pushed against Victor's back, freeing himself from the weight before spinning around to help Victor take care of the last man standing against them.

A fist collided with his stitched side, causing Yuuri to gasp, falling to his knees as the pain flashed red in his brain.

"Big mistake," Victor growled, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt and throwing him through the painted canvas of the wall. It wasn't until the shouting began that Victor realized his mistake.

"We need to move." Grabbing Yuuri under his armpits, Victor urged him to his feet. "Tell me where to go, I'll carry you again." His voice cracked with panic, Yuuri heavily pressing against his side, as Victor tried to move them both forward. He barely suppressed a fearful squeak when Yuuri slumped against his side, eyes going unnervingly unfocused.

"Plisetsky! Altin! Go check it out!"

Victor froze when the sound of Abram's voice carrying through the gaping hole in the canvas wall. Changing tactics, he pulled Yuuri's shaking body closer to his side, turning both of them until their backs were flush to the wooden planks next to the only door.

If he knew anything about the other Yuri, Victor knew the young hothead would come charging into the room looking for a fight. If Yuri and Otabek were being manipulated, now would be the only time that Victor would have a chance to find out, and he didn't want to beat them to a pulp before having an opportunity to do so. Lowering his voice to a whisper, Victor explained his thoughts to Yuuri and received a shallow nod in response.

Every breath felt ragged as it wheezed from Yuuri's chest. His head throbbed in time with his side, his vision increasingly more blurry as the pain began to overtake his senses. Grinding his teeth together, Yuuri tried to mentally talk himself through it, concentrating on pushing the fiery redness away from his vision. He focused on the feeling of Victor's warmth against his side, the blue of Victor's eyes, the sound of Victor's voice and the softness of Victor's skin where Yuuri's hand rested on his shoulder. Using these sensations, he grounded himself and pushed back against the overwhelming throbbing spreading through his body.

Two figures stepped into the room, shoulder to shoulder and barely a foot from where Victor and Yuuri were pressed against the wall. Yuuri knew what Victor needed him to do. Silently letting his arm slink off of Victor's shoulders, he signaled his readiness with a terse nod. Moving in sync, they pounced, easily putting the younger fighters into debilitating chokeholds. Unable to speak through the searing lightning caused by his sudden movements, Yuuri lifted tear-dampened eyes in Victor's direction.

"Yuri! Stop fighting!" Victor hissed, struggling to manhandle a flailing Yuri against the ground. Finally using a firm grip in Yuri's hair, Victor forced him to make eye contact, rolling his eyes as Yuri's eyes went wide. "What the hell is going on?"

A single tear threatened to roll down Yuri's cheek as he shook Victor's other hand from over his mouth. "Your fucking ex-boyfriend kidnapped my grandpa." His voice was filled with angry venom, his eyes narrowed as if Victor was solely to blame for this violation. Bringing an arm up, Yuri thrusted his forearm against Victor's neck, dislodging the hold Victor had on him.

Victor let himself be shoved backwards, relinquishing Yuri and watching as Yuri carefully maneuvered himself into a standing position. Wiping a hand over his face, Yuri approached the tattered hole in the destroyed canvas. "No one here but bodies, boss!" Yuri called, glaring down onto the throne room floor. "We'll keep looking." He waited until Abram acknowledged his statement, stepping back from the window and crouching down again to be level with Victor. "Get off him, pig," Yuri snarled, leveling a kick against Yuuri's thigh and slapping out a hand when Victor smacked him across the back of his head.

Releasing his hold on Otabek, Yuuri glared at Yuri, slumping back against the wall and covering his side with his hand. Blood had begun to trickle from his wound and Yuuri closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing through the pain. He wasn't sure he liked the small angry man who shared his name, but his world was spinning and the fire in his side was too great to continue to contemplate the thought.

Placing a hand on Yuuri's cheek, Victor's brows knitted in concern. He ignored whatever words were spurting from Yuri, instead choosing to run his thumb against Yuuri's flushed cheek. His vision tunneled to the blood running down Yuuri's side and the labored nature of Yuuri's breathing, until Otabek's voice broke through his haze.

"They have my sister." Otabek spoke with quiet reserve but the fear threaded through each of his simple words. Victor couldn't help wincing at the statement, remembering the excitable little girl with the braided dark pigtails and turning his attention to Otabek who refused to look at him. Victor's mind was whirring with dangerous possibilities leaving him speechless.

"It's your fault," Yuri stated, punching Victor in the shoulder. "If you hadn't dated that asshole, he wouldn't know this place existed. You and all your stupid googling of this clown."

Gritting his teeth, Victor leveled Yuri with a murderous look.

Easing one eye open, Yuuri realized that Victor's angry ring mate was thrusting a thumb in his direction. "I'm the clown?" Yuuri asked, flinching as his side stung in protest of his flexing stomach muscles.

"Yeah," Yuri rolled his eyes, shifting his weight with a scowl still aimed in Victor's direction. "Even when this idiot was dating that asshole, he was still spending a stupid amount of time trying to learn everything about _you_." Yuri cursed when Victor tried to wrestle him back to the ground, biting Victor's hand and pushing him away. "I bet you're the reason Abram knew there was gold here in the first place!" Yuri bit off his angry words, straightening his clothing and glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone was reacting to his muffled shouts.

"I have questions," Yuuri raised his free hand, one finger pointing to the ceiling. Despite the growing fog in his mind and the squeeze in his chest with every word, Yuuri desperately wanted to know why Victor was spending such a remarkable amount of time googling him. The blush erupting over Victor's face made Yuuri's curiosity peak even higher.

"Save your questions for later," Yuri snapped, stealing the chance to respond from Victor. "We gotta get out of here. Abram plans to blow the place up when he is done looting it. Seeing as these guys are all slow and stupid, we should still have time to save ourselves." Yuri stood with Otabek following.

"Not without Takeshi," Yuuri groaned as he sat forward, his stomach lurching when his fingers curled into the skin near the end of his wound. "He has a _family_ ," Yuuri pointed out, watching the understanding dawn on Otabek's face. "If you take us down there, we can create enough of a distraction that you two can take Takeshi and run. He can get you out of here, and from there you can go after your loved ones."

Victor and Yuri protested the idea simultaneously, as Otabek shook his head as well, his disagreement seemingly aimed in Yuri's direction. "Yuuri, you cannot fight anymore!" Victor shifted to wrap an arm around Yuuri's shoulders, urging Yuuri to lean against his bare chest. "You're bleeding again. Go with them while you can, I can distract them without you."

"Victor, they'll kill you," Yuuri angled his head up to try to look at Victor, the stretch of his muscles causing him to inhale sharply. "I'm not leaving you, end of story."

Victor placed a hand to Yuuri's cheek, rubbing away a swipe of dirt. Brave Yuuri who continued to fight and protect Victor despite Yuuri's injuries being worse. Brilliant Yuuri who had charted their path through the castle, keeping them safe and getting them this far. Caring Yuuri who absolutely refused to leave anyone behind. It was a little overwhelming to fit all of these men into the one currently peering up at him with pleading brown eyes. Victor couldn't resist the desire to lean in for a kiss, nearly connecting before they were yanked apart by Yuri's irate hands.

"For fuck's sake, hasn't your libido gotten us into enough trouble?" Yuri dragged Victor to his feet, leaving Otabek to catch Yuuri's toppling body. "Look, we'll throw you to the wolves and get the big guy out of here. Try not to die before we can send help back for you."

Victor wanted to make a smart comment but Yuri was already wrenching his arms behind his back, making his shoulders pop. Glaring over his shoulder, Victor twitched, colliding his shoulder with Yuri's chin to emphasize that he could still escape the hold and kick the other's ass. Satisfied with Yuri's reactive scowl, Victor turned to watch Otabek help Yuuri to his feet. When Yuuri stumbled, Victor made a conflicted noise, twisting against Yuri's grasp in a desperate attempt to reach for Yuuri.

"I'm fine," Yuuri shoved Otabek's hands off of his waist, catching himself on the wall by one hand and shuddering as he tried to push back to his feet. "Just stay close to me," Yuuri whispered, sucking in a resolute breath. Refusing to look at anyone, Yuuri dropped his hand from his side, offering both of his arms behind his back. Otabek's hands wrapped lightly on his wrists, moving Yuuri forward toward the door with a gentle push.

"I'll never leave your side," Victor promised, growling when Yuri roughly propelled him forward. He stared at the back of Yuuri's head, continuing to let the same words loop in his mind, sounding more like a prayer with every repetition.

* * *

The walk from the hidden room, down the leveled staircase and into the open throne room took less time than Victor had hoped. He needed time to wrap his mind around what was happening, to take in the possibility that they were walking into their own demise. His body was fatigued in a way that it never was after fighting his matches or even after his most grueling practices. His mind was overwhelmed with the need to protect Yuuri and simultaneously trying to process how they had gotten to this point. The hours between his entry into the ring and the slow parade into the throne room spread behind him like a lifetime.

"Here," Yuri spat, throwing Victor on the ground in front of Abram's feet. "Your intruders." Victor rotated his wrists, relieving the sting from where Yuri had purposefully twisted the thin skin. He understood Yuri's anger, his grandfather was his only family left and in Yuri's eyes, Victor was the reason his grandfather was now in danger. Flexing his shoulders, Victor tried to school his facial expression into something poised. Inside, he felt everything except confidence.

Yuuri landed next to Victor, his knees sharply cracking against the polished wood. Otabek had only appeared to restrain Yuuri as they had made their way through the narrow hallway, tightening his grip only when they crossed the threshold and forcing Yuuri to his knees. In front of him was the throne room which had been carefully maintained by the castle's curator. Now it was in disarray, the thrones were both knocked on their sides and several of the sliding doors were crooked on their hinges. Golden statues of all sizes laid in haphazard piles, the up-close sight of them made Yuuri clench his jaw and ball his fists tightly.

A groan suppressed behind Yuuri's teeth had Victor flinching, resisting the urge to reach out and gather Yuuri back into his arms. In his periphery, Victor saw Yuri and Otabek move to either side of Takeshi, lifting him from the ground. A shadow fell over Victor and he took a breath before leveling his eyes on the vile man in front of him.

"You?" Abram raised himself to his full height, arms crossing over his chest as he raised a condescending eyebrow in Victor's direction. "A finesse fighter and his scrappy sidekick," kicking dirt in Yuuri's face, Abram scoffed his disbelief, "there's no way these two were taking out my men."

 _Finesse fighter_ , Victor growled inside his mind. This had been Abram's exact evaluation following the one and only fight he had seen Victor participate in and the memory of Abram's judgment made his anger curl like an eager-to-strike snake. Forcing his aggression to simmer, Victor concentrated on assessing the room around them, purposely ignoring Abram's attempts to engage him.

Outside of Abram, Yuri and Otabek, there were currently other seven men in the room. A quick mental review of their earlier observations left Victor with an estimate of approximately eight more still moving somewhere within the castle, if none of the others they had already encountered had found a way to recover from their injuries with a will to fight again. In short, they seemed doomed.

"Where do you two think you are going?" Returning his scrutiny to Abram, Victor felt sickness seeping in along with his anger. Abram was addressing Otabek and Yuri who had been quietly maneuvering Takeshi away from the enclosed space of the throne room. Victor didn't have to look to know Yuri was beginning to worry, the scoff huffing out of him when Abram halted their progress from the room spoke volumes.

"If you are going to dispose of those two," Otabek nodded toward Yuuri and Victor, "I would suggest that you decrease the witnesses, specifically those with questionable loyalty." He jostled Takeshi in grip, shaking the heavy man until Takeshi lifted his head to glare at Abram.

"Kick his ass, Yuuri," Takeshi growled, rolling his shoulders and fighting against the two men holding him. "Kill him if you have to."

"Shut him up," Abram ordered, glaring at Yuri and Otabek until they complied by shoving Takeshi face first into the ground. "Stay put, might as well let him watch his friends die. Should help him be more… compliant."

The sound of Abram's sickening chuckle made Yuuri grit his teeth. Whoever this asshole thought he was, Yuuri wanted to show him exactly how little he was worth. Glancing sideways at Victor, Yuuri felt his stomach sink when he registered the ill-concealed guilt on Victor's face.

"Now, you two." Licking his lips, Abram cracked his knuckles, lifting a hand to encourage a few of the lingering thugs to his side. "I can't have you getting in the way. Mess them up, dump their unconscious bodies deep in this tacky horror of a building and blow them up with the rest of it." Abram spit in Victor's direction, his spittle catching Victor on his check as he flinched away.

Yuuri couldn't stand seeing the fear in Victor's eyes. In all of the years they had been fighting, fear had never existed in Victor. They had battled for their own lives throughout all the hours of the current day and still Victor hadn't shown an ounce of alarm. Kneeling on the ground before this brute of a man, who look fuller of steroid-fed muscles than brains, Yuuri could feel his own emotions beginning to boil to the surface. Pushing to his feet, Yuuri pulled Victor up next to him. "Let's end this."

"What?" Victor gawked, turning to stare at the side of Yuuri's face. "We've barely gotten started! Let's at least live through this before you dump me!"

"Not this!" Yuuri waved a hand between himself and Victor. "This!" Wildly, Yuuri waved the same exasperated hand in miscellaneous directions to indicate the entire room.

"Oh I-"

Victor was cut off by Abram's gruff laugh. "Victor, not only aren't you a real fighter, but now you aren't even dating a real man? He's so tiny!"

Anger, hot and flashing bright, filled Victor's vision. Lunging forward, he was a second too late, the violent snap of Yuuri's fist crushing directly into Abram's nose echoing throughout the room. Pride overtook Victor's fury as Abram dropped to his knees, clutching his bloody nose with both hands and demanding in Russian that the other men kill them. Victor's jaw dropped as Yuuri spun into a flawless roundhouse, connecting with the side of Abram's head, leaving his body a limp unconsciousness heap on the floor.

Adrenaline surged through Yuuri as he landed on his feet. Abram could have continued with his insults, he could have called Yuuri every questionable name in Abram's limited vocabulary, but claiming that Victor wasn't a real fighter crossed a line that Yuuri wouldn't leave uncorrected. Victor was the most amazing fighter, not to mention the most incredible man, who Yuuri had ever known. Anyone who dared to question that deserved to taste their own blood. Rolling his shoulders, Yuuri took a step back and pressed a kiss to Victor's cheek, letting himself have the fractioned second of reassurance.

The remaining men closed in on them, attempting to form a circle and repeating the same strategy as the last set of morons who Victor and Yuuri had humiliated. Chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, Yuuri reached for Victor, making the briefest of eye contact before they were hooking their arms together. In one fluid movement, Yuuri's feet left the ground, Victor supporting him as his feet flew in a half circle, colliding with the meat heads in front of him. Then it was Yuuri's turn to fling Victor, he allowed himself to yell in protest of the tearing of the stitches in his side with the effort it took to guide Victor in a similar airborne circle.

By the time Victor's feet hit the ground, Yuri and Otabek had fled with Takeshi and the rest of Abram's men had found their way into the throne room. Blood ran down Yuuri's side; only a portion of his carefully placed stitches still remained following the exertion of his continuous fighting. His chest heaved with effort, fire burning through him as he tried to count the men stalking into the room. His already blurry vision began to waver, and Yuuri realized that tears had begun to cling to his eyelashes. They had come this far, but his body was feeling every strike, every bruise throbbing deep within him.

Yuuri's stamina far exceeded Victor's own and when he saw Yuuri's head drop forward toward his own knees, Victor felt the crushing terror of potential failure. Instead of eight men, fifteen poured into the room. Fatigue washed over Victor, his muscles growing heavy even as he raised his fists again, prepared to fight until his body collapsed from exhaustion.

Yuri and Otabek were gone, and while Victor knew that had been the plan, he regretted not requesting their help in the fight. Around them, men who bore the damage of previous fights with Victor and Yuuri looked ready to seek their enraged revenge, while others remained unmarked and primed to fight unencumbered by tiredness. Swallowing his own dread, Victor forced himself to stand tall, bringing his fists up prepared to defend them both to his last breath.

The sound of doors slamming open echoed through the room making every one of them freeze. Uniformed officers poured into the room, guns raised and orders flying into the air commanding Abram's men to get on the ground. Bodies dropped to their knees, horrified expressions painting every face as they placed their hands on their heads. Zip ties were tightened snuggly on each set of burly wrists and Abram was tossed onto a stretcher, arms and legs secured to the metal bars.

Mari stepped through the nearest door with a smirk in their direction. "Miss me?" She placed a hand on Yuuri's shoulder, expression fading as she processed the jagged opening in Yuuri's side. Starting to speak, her question was interrupted when Victor's body toppled forward, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Together, Yuuri and Mari caught him. Despite his own injuries, Yuuri bent to scoop an arm under Victor's knees, lifting Victor up to brace him against his chest. "Thanks for coming back for us," Yuuri winced when he took his first step forward, grinding his teeth to will himself to keep moving. He owed Mari many things, but now he was positive he also owed her their lives.

"I wasn't going to let you have all the fun," she deadpanned, nodding toward a door and guiding Yuuri toward the opening. She placed a firm hand against his back, supporting him as he carried Victor away from the nightmare they had survived.

"Where's Takeshi?" Yuuri asked, the question wheezing out of him. The feeling of being safe was leaking into his heart and mind, causing him to finally register every ounce of adrenaline rushing from his body. Struggling to remain conscious, he felt Victor's head press further into his shoulder and fought the fog floating into his mind. He missed Mari's answer, his body giving up when he was encouraged to place Victor on a stretcher and then guided onto one of his own.

Head flopping from Yuuri's shoulder, Victor let himself be lowered onto the hard, unstable bed. The world existed behind a translucent curtain, it felt unreal and disconnected from Victor's fading consciousness. His last coherent memory was the feeling of Yuuri gently kissing his forehead and the lingering sound of Yuuri's heartbeat against his ear.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

Groans and the sounds of fists striking skin filled the air around him. In front of him, two figures were taunting each other, exchanging glancing blows and pointedly playful insults. Smiling, Yuuri settled into the cushion propped up behind his back, his parents nestled on either side of him.

"That's all you got, Nikiforov?" Mari teased, ducking under Victor's jab and landing a blow of her own to Victor's side. She laughed when he scoffed, shifting her feet backwards and blocking Victor's next strike with very little effort.

"Your sister is a cunning fighter," Victor didn't look at Yuuri as he spoke, knowing that even a quick glance would lead to his immediate defeat. Yuuri as a fighter was stunning and breath-taking in the ring, but Yuuri, relaxed and at home with his family, was the type of beautiful that made Victor forget his own name. Distracted by his own musings, Victor instantly regretted his lapse in concentration when he found himself flat on his back, staring once again at the onsen ceiling.

"Yuuri," Mari chided, hands on her hips, standing above Victor with a lopsided smile. "Your future husband needs to keep his head in the game." Offering her hand, Mari pulled Victor to his feet, laughing as Yuuri choked on his tea and Victor sputtered unintelligently.

"Mari!" Yuuri gagged, wiping the spit tea from his chin and staring at Victor with wide eyes. Although their relationship had advanced rather quickly over their last month at the onsen, Yuuri was positive Victor would balk at Mari's unashamed teasing.

"Yuuri," Victor remarked, regaining his composure with an eyebrow raised, "is it appropriate to kick my future sister-in-law's ass or do I have to keep letting her win?" Taking a step back, Victor grinned at Mari's offended expression.

"Letting me win?" Mari growled, squaring up to Victor. Yuuri squawked from his place on the mat, attempting to stand up and pouting when his mother and father held him in place with the press of their hands on each of his shoulders. "Bring it on, _Vicchan_." Taking advantage of Victor's obvious shock of her use of the diminutive, Mari dove forward and struck Victor with a powerful blow to the stomach.

"Mom, please don't let Mari kill him." Yuuri sighed, watching Victor recover and spin away from Mari, a laugh rumbling out of Victor as he wrapped an arm around Mari's waist and attempted to take her to the ground.

"Don't murder our future son," Toshiya called, chuckling when Yuuri groaned into his hands. His embarrassment flooded his cheeks, but he was momentarily distracted when Mari looped her leg through Victor's and reversed Victor's hold, landing Victor on his back again.

"Yuuri," Victor called, his free leg flexing as he laced it under Mari and used the leverage to flip their positions. "If I pin your sister, I think you should have to marry me. It's only fair." Grunting, Victor found himself bent in half, Mari pressing him toward the ground with the strength of her chest against his back.

"Deal!" Yuuri yelled, surprising himself and glancing at his parents. Both of them looked thrilled at the prospect and Yuuri's stomach did another round of somersaults.

It had been slightly over a month since Victor and Yuuri had emerged from Hasetsu castle battered and battle-worn. Abram had been taken into custody and absolutely no one had any idea what had happened to him from that point.

Takeshi had spent the better part of the first two weeks in the hospital. Internal bleeding and the stress of being threatened and manipulated by Abram's men for nearly six months had taken a toll on his body. Yuuko and the girls had visited him every day, and the town had showed up at the exit of the hospital to celebrate his release with confetti and encouraging cheers. No one was angry with him over what had happened, instead they rallied around his plans to rebuild the destroyed parts of Hasetsu castle, accepting his determination to right all the wrongdoings with open hearts.

Victor had stayed in the hospital for two days, treated for shock and dehydration. Despite the remarkable number of bruises covering his body, he had suffered no major injuries, causing him to become a legend in the small-town hospital. He had shared a room with Yuuri, and after a generous bribe, had convinced the nurses to push their beds closer together so they could hold hands during their waking hours.

The lacreation in Yuuri's side required extensive cleaning and thirty-two stitches by a skilled surgeon to repair the damage done to Yuuri's skin. He had barely escaped the need for a blood transfusion, but he did receive hefty doses of antibiotics and was entertainingly loopy every time his pain medication was administered. He would have hated the feeling of the medications burning through his skin, except Victor always seemed to be ready with the most ridiculous jokes right as the fuzziness settled into Yuuri's brain. A week after they were released, Victor finally admitted to googling silly jokes on his phone to be ready to make Yuuri laugh whenever he knew it wouldn't hurt Yuuri to do so.

Settling into the onsen to recover had been easier than Yuuri had expected. His parents happily welcomed Victor into their home, arranging a room for them to share which would not require them to traverse any of the onsen's steep staircases. They had celebrated the announcement that Yuuri and Victor were dating, going so far as to embarrass Yuuri by squealing about Yuuri's long-time admiration of Victor. It had taken many, many kisses for Yuuri to finally forgive Victor for being so pleased over this information. (And even more for Victor to forgive Yuuri when Yuuri questioned him about the excessive googling mentioned by Yuri.)

It had been a source of contention when Yuuri was told he couldn't fight for at least three months, and he would have ignored the doctor's orders, except Victor had been present in the room and had heard every word. Yuuri had no desire to be babied, so instead Victor used other tactics to keep him distracted from his restrictions. They had been booted from the hot springs twice for getting a little carried away with one another, and Yuuri had endured knowing glances from all his family members every morning when he and Victor stumbled from their room with bed head and fresh bruises that certainly weren't from fighting.

A smile sneaking over his face, Yuuri gasped when Victor suddenly unfolded from the mat and flipped Mari onto her side. He recognized the move, having lost to it at least twice in his own career. His cheeks flushed as Mari tapped out and Victor leaped to his feet to run in a victory circle. Yuuri's laughter rolled through him when Victor flopped into front of him, angling his head into Yuuri's lap.

"A deal is a deal, my love," Victor grinned, tilting his chin in an obvious request for a kiss. He fluttered his eyelashes when Yuuri hesitated.

"Kiss your fiancé, Yuuri," Mari smiled, arms crossing over her chest. With that simple look, Yuuri realized that it had never been Victor letting Mari win, but merely Mari holding back and eventually tapping out solely to see what Victor would do. He shook his head when Mari winked at him, tipping his own face down to press a quick kiss to Victor's lips.

Later, alone in their room, Victor pulled Yuuri into his lap and asked him to spend the rest of their lives tackling all their adventures together.

Looking into the eyes of the man who had fought against him and with him, Yuuri cupped Victor's cheeks with both of his hands and let his answer form in the feeling of their kiss.


End file.
